


Battle and Bloodshed as Foreplay

by gigi2690



Category: Warehouse 13
Genre: F/F
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-05-03
Updated: 2013-05-03
Packaged: 2017-12-10 07:49:31
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,071
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/783588
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/gigi2690/pseuds/gigi2690
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Bering and Wells AU very loosely based on Hansel & Gretel: Witch Hunters (not-related so no incest). Rated M for a bit of Violent Badassery and some Post-Fight Dirty Alley Sex</p>
            </blockquote>





	Battle and Bloodshed as Foreplay

**Author's Note:**

> Please do not copy or duplicate on other sites or mediums without my consent.

Helena pushed her way into the tavern, grinning wolfishly as she took in the suspicious and lustful stares of the patrons. She stroked her crossbow, noting those in the crowd daring to meet her steely gaze. The crowd was diverse, making their prey all the more elusive. There were the drunks in tattered rags selling their souls for two fingers of whiskey; ladies of the house, their bodies an offering bound in lace corsets, and; lords looking down at her from their perch on the lofted upper storey, cockroaches that knew better than to conduct their shadier business on their own turf.

Somewhere in that mass, there was a witch. Helena’s grin softened for a moment as she heard the swing of the tavern door and the familiar tread. She kept her eyes on the crowd as she spoke airily over her shoulder, “What do you think my dear, is our devil a brothel girl or a noble rat?”

“Just who do you women think you are barging in here dressed like that and bearing arms?” The voice came from a tall gentleman on the balcony with clean near white blond hair, tan breeches, white stockings and a Burgundy surcoat with gold trim and pearl buttons. Helena held back her smirk as she lowered herself into a curtsey,  _payday_. Myka slinked up beside her, fingers trailing along the strap of Helena’s quiver. Helena knew Myka wouldn’t show any sign of submission for the man, and she loved her all the more for it…but it was Helena’s charm that got them most of their coin.

“My lord, we are the Witch Hunters of Frederic,” Whispers broke out, their reputation proceeded them. Helena’s lip twitched as she held her curtsey and the lord’s eye. “There is a witch in your midsts.” 

The throng of people turned on each other instantly: ladies jumped from men’s laps, blades were drawn. 

The blond man raised his hands, gold glinting from his knuckles, “Calm yourselves,” he kept his eyes locked on Helena and Myka, “Are you certain of this?” Helena raised herself back to full height, cocking a hip as she regarded him cooly, “On my life.” An uneasy silence. He was a lord, he knew a service was not given for free unless you owned the labor, and no one owned them. That they would have killed the witch anyway had he not been here- arrogant and done up shinier than a christmas present-wasn’t relevant.

The man looked around the tavern with wide eyes before turning to look down his nose at them, “I do not carry gold to this part of town.”

Helena finally allowed herself to smile again, seeing the fear in his eyes, ”I believe you carry more gold with you than you realize.”

There was a long pause before the man looked at his hands and sighed, “Find and kill the witch and you may have one of my rings.”

There was an amused scoff to Helena’s right, “One ring for your life and the lives of all of this village’s children?” She glanced to Helena out of the corner of her eyes and grinned, looking down at her hand and flipping an athame between her fingers, “I think we’d look lovely with a pair of matching gold rings, don’t you agree… _my lord.”_ The words came out mocking and the man bristled, raising his hands to stop the two men flanking him from drawing their weapons, 

“Done.” With that, both women returned to full attention. Myka scrutinized the room, taking in every grime covered barstool and each piece of drawn steel. Helena, for the most part, watched Myka. This was her thing; ever since they’d met as children. It had been Myka that first noticed the pattern of the witch’s visits to their cell for their feedings. It is common during times when food and labor is too scarce to care for multiple offspring to leave a child in a forest rumoured to harbor a witch. They were not the lucky children. 

After a few minutes of subdued mutterings one of the drunks tried to make for the door. Helena let loose an arrow that came close enough to kiss the man’s cheek with its feathered fletching as it sailed past. Helena readied another arrow, sweeping her gaze over the restless mob, “No one leaves until we get our witch.” Myka continued to circle the floor, content to leave crowd control to Helena. Finally she stopped, eyeing the lofted second storey with unmistakable triumph and pointed one long finger at a lord standing at the upper most left corner.

The unassuming lord growled and transformed in a rush of smoke to reveal a woman in a midnight blue dress and mane of fiery red hair. The witch’s black eyes gleamed in the low light of the tavern’s oil lamps, skin cracked like pottery left too long in the kiln.

Helena released her arrow just as the witch leapt over the railing. Helena threw her crossbow onto her back and drew her short sword. Just as it looked like the witch was going to fall on her blade, every piece of glass in the place shattered. The two of them were forced to dive to the floor to avoid the worst of the damage. Pints of beer bit their masters and the bartender was killed instantly as every bottle behind the bar erupted, releasing a tidal wave of liquor. 

Myka blew a now damp lock of hair from face as she rose to her feet. There were screams as everyone except for those trapped on the second storey fled the building. Helena could feel the cuts on her face and exposed arms. The liquor burned where it met split skin. She sneered, licking the blood and spilled scotch from her lips, “An ugly bitch isn’t she?” 

Myka’s chortle was caught off by an unearthly screech… the witch charged again. Helena dodged the swipe of talon like fingers with ease, her short sword tearing the fabric of the witch’s dress and just missing the waiting flesh.There was a bright blue blast lifting Helena a few feet into the air and hurling her backwards over the counter of the bar. She groaned as she landed on broken glass and the dead bartender. She dug deep into the unpolished oak and pulled herself to her feet. Myka was a blur of motion, keeping the witch on the defensive to prevent her from gathering enough magicks for an attack.

Helena swiftly let fly two arrows, one imbedding in each of the woman’s thighs with a sickening  _thunk._ The witch fell to knees with a howl of pain; taking no time, Myka painted a deep red line across the witch’s throat and kicked her onto her back. The witch grasped her neck, gargling her blood pitifully. She reached behind her back to pull free an axe and decapitated the devil woman in one clean stroke. 

~~

Helena pulled Myka out of the tavern by their joined hands, her laughter loud and unfettered, “I thought the man was going to soil himself when you dropped the witch’s head on his shiny boots.” Myka joined in the laughter, but faltered as she felt Helena halt. Myka turned… she knew that look. She sighed and shook her head in mock exasperation. She looked down at herself: her leather breeches and ripped forest green shirt were stained crimson with the witch’s blood, and she smelled like she had fallen into a tub full of rum. 

“Really Helena?” Helena smirked, releasing their joined hands in favor of grabbing the lacing of her shirt and tugging the knotting free. Myka batted the fingers away, glancing around; they lingered under a tall iron lamp, one of many lighting the street. 

Helena pouted, “You know how I like to see you all mussed and flushed from a fight,” Helena’s fingers sought out her hips, pulling her possessively into her to whisper huskily against the shell of her ear, “dripping with the blood of our enemies.” Myka shivered, not sure how the woman managed to turn battle and bloodshed into foreplay. This time when Myka grabbed the hands she did not push them away, but still warily looked to the glowing lamp overhead. Helena nodded in understanding, reattaching their hands and pulling Myka off the road and down an alley that ran between two tall buildings. 

As soon as they were blanketed in shadow, Myka found herself pressed tight against cold stone. Strong hands grasped the back of her knees and hoisted her up. She wrapped her legs around Helena’s waist instantly, giving herself up to Helena and gasping as the woman ground her against the wall. The laces of her shirt were promptly untied, her shirt yanked to the left to reveal one pale breast. Helena kneaded the mound, lightly scraping her nail across the hardening nub as her other hand released the clasp of her breeches.

Helena swept one finger along her slit, gathering her arousal and then pulling back. Myka groaned, digging her frustration into the woman’s shoulder blades.  Helena’s gaze was lecherous as she took the finger and painted the brunette’s nipple with the wetness. Myka moaned gutturally at the sight, the sensation of Helena’s finger making slow, wet circles around her nipple. Helena smirked at her handiwork before moving lower to lay a light, exploratory lick across the moist bud. “Mmm,” she moaned appreciatively at the taste and eagerly took the tip between her lips and sucked hard.

Helena’s hand returned to the thatch of curls between her legs and spread Myka open. Myka’s thighs tightened around her waist as two fingers entered deep to find Myka already soaked and wanting. Myka arched against the wall, trying to pull her deeper to make her move her hand, but Helena ignored her. She was working her way across Myka’s chest now, pulling the shirt to the other side, and when her lips wrapped around her right nipple she curled her fingers against Myka’s g spot. Myka whimpered.

“Ride me darling.” She instructed firmly. Slowly Myka started undulating her hips, her heels digging into the small of Helena’s back as she moved. The night was quiet except for their heavy breathing and the scraping of leather against stone as Myka rose and fell around Helena’s fingers. One hand wound itself tight through inky locks and the other raised to rest against the wall behind her head, desperately seeking the leverage required to quicken her thrusts. 

Helena pinched her nipple whilst brushing her thumb across her clit, making Myka loose her rhythm and cry out, pausing to rest her forehead against Helena’s and gather her breath. Myka pulled her into a kiss, running her tongue along the split in her lip before delving inside to the warm, welcoming heat of the woman’s mouth. She used the hand fisted in Helena’s hair to move her head where she wanted her, relishing the metallic twang of blood mixed with scotch and a richness that was all Helena. 

She continued her rhythm, increasing her speed the best she could as she laid siege to Helena’s mouth. Leaving small love bites along her jaw, Myka’s breath hitched as she felt a third finger press into her. Her muscles began clenching and unclenching sporadically, gracefulness abandoned for want of speed and friction. She arched off the wall with a scream as she tightened around Helena’s fingers. Waves of pleasure rolled over her, her skin one sensitized nerve as she fell over that rapturous edge. She slumped against Helena, panting shakily against the column of her throat. Helena shuddered as her breath blew over the drying perspiration and spilled liquor. 

The quiet was broken by the barking of dogs and the shuffling of feet in the distance. Helena lowered her gently to her feet and wiped her hand against her tan hide vest, “Well you’ll have to wait to return the favor I’m afraid. People will be coming to check on that banshee scream.”

Myka tried to glare at her, but the flush to her cheeks and the pleasure swirling in her eyes rendered the gesture ineffective, “Completely your fault.”

Helena grinned cheekily before giving her a peck on the lips, “Utterly worth it.” Helena laced their fingers together once more- a glint of gold on each of their index fingers-and Myka let Helena lead her into the dark.


End file.
